


Hello

by kittymannequin



Series: Korrasami Base [7]
Category: Avatar: Legend of Korra
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-29
Updated: 2015-10-29
Packaged: 2018-04-28 18:12:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,186
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5100671
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kittymannequin/pseuds/kittymannequin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Yeah, Adele inspired me. *shrug* Also, post break-up time can easily be summed up into four sentences.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hello

It starts with anger.

* * *

 

You’re at your absolute worst, it’s a Monday and you’re already so broken, so exhausted and tired, all you want to do is go home, lie down in your bed and sleep through the week.

But alas, you can’t.

You let your best friend drag you to a cafe for the umpteenth time since apparently ‘ _all you ever do is lock yourself up in your flat and I don’t know, cry’_ , and you’re sitting at the bar, staring into your glass and dragging a finger over the rim. He’s right, though. But you’ve no heart to tell him that coming here and pretending to be alright only makes it worse.

Your eyes linger on the gold-brown of the whiskey in front of you and that’s when you feel it settle in the back of your head.

She always liked having a glass of whiskey in the lazy afternoons you spent together.

So why are you drinking whiskey now? You never even liked it.

Oh that’s right.  
She said it would make you look really sexy.

But you don’t really think it ever made you look sexy, just like a fool because you’ve always been a beer person and it just doesn’t taste good to you and the face you always made when drinking it made her laugh.

Yeah, that’s why you drank it. It made _her_ happy.

You glance over your shoulder and take in the familiar sight. It’s somewhere past seven in the evening, Bolin’s on the far side of the cafe with a girl he probably just met and his brother, Mako, is late and you suspect he’s not coming at all. You don’t think Bolin’s being a dick, though, you know you’re no fun and you can’t actually blame him. He tries, but not him or anyone else, can help you.

As you turn back around you push the glass away and call the bartender over, order yourself a beer and glare at the still full glass of whiskey.

What else did you change for her?

How about... everything?

You glance up, staring at your own reflection in the glasses on the counter behind the bar. You cut your hair after she left you but you clearly kept it long because _she_ liked it so. You always wore at least a bit of makeup – _Korra, how would it look like if you came with me looking like that? Please, put on some mascara, hm? And maybe lip-gloss? You know it makes you look super cute._

You clench your jaw and take in a long breath through your nose, just as the bartender places the beer in front of you and mumbles a price.

You won’t let anger take over this time. Breaking your fist after punching that wall was quite enough.

* * *

 

But then, hurt takes over.

* * *

 

Truth be told, most of everything you ever did in that relationship was because it made her happy but in reality, it made _you_ happy to know that she was smiling. That she wasn’t the scared little kid anymore. That the hurt of her past wasn’t making her cry at night and all her demons seemed to have calmed down when you were there.

But now you just think they turned into something else. Something she became as she grew older and your relationship progressed.

It’s been three years since Kuvira left you.

You still remember the day so clearly it makes you want to cry all over again. You guess it always will, to a certain amount.

She didn’t really say why, or how, but she just... stopped loving you. Come to think of it, you’re not really sure if she ever did. Sure, she showered you with emotions, raw and pure, brilliant and warm emotions. Sometimes, you felt you’d suffocate from feeling as joyful as you did. You thought your heart couldn’t keep anymore happiness inside.

Other times, though, it all died, over and over.

Just as you reach out for your beer you notice there’s a slight commotion in the cafe so you glance over your shoulder again and notice someone placing a chair in the middle of the small podium on the far side of the place. There’s a microphone in front of it and as someone pulls away the curtains behind it, the other patrons of the cafe all seem to collectively gasp.

The woman that walks over to the microphone is stunningly gorgeous, with her long, raven hair and her sleek shoulder. And that really dorky oversized sweater just makes her look even cuter, but at the same time, her legs seem to go on forever and it’s really hard not to stare.

But you look away anyway because you can’t care. There’s a hole where your heart used to be, Kuvira made sure to cut it out, and as attractive as the girl may be you can’t spare her another thought. You can’t ignore her voice though, try as you might. She starts with a hello but seconds later you realize it’s a song because you hear a piano somewhere that you’re not sure was there before and you find yourself turning around as the song takes over.

 _Hello, it's me, I was wondering_  
_If after all these years you'd like to meet to go over everything_  
 _They say that time's supposed to heal, yeah_  
 _But I ain't done much healing_

You cringe – it’s that new Adele song you’ve been avoiding so well, by now. You heard it’s a really great breakup song but honestly, what’s so good about breakups anyway?

They just leave you sad. A half of what used to be a whole.

* * *

 

And you just feel sad.

* * *

 

 _So hello from the other side_  
_I must've called a thousand times_  
 _To tell you I'm sorry, for everything that I've done_  
 _But when I call you never seem to be home_

You don’t remember how many times you called her until the line stopped ringing and a voice answered instead, saying that “ _The number you have dialled does not exist anymore.”_

You cried, for hours upon hours. It made nothing better.

You spent the next night with a random guy you met that night in a bar and took home, but you don’t even remember the sex. It was just two people numbing the pain. Or was it just you?

The girl sings really well though.

She doesn’t falter once and her voice sounds like liquid gold. She never once looks your way, you don’t think she even opens her eyes, she just holds the microphone in her hands and it’s as if you can feel the pain behind the words.

But you’re sure it’s your pain.

You are still hurt, after all. And sad. So, so sad.

Three years later and you still can’t wake up without wishing you’d never gotten to know how nice it feels to wake up with her in your arms. You still curse the day you learnt how to sleep on the left side because the right is her favourite. At least you wouldn’t have an empty space in your bed now, right?

Time is apparently supposed to heal but you can’t say you’ve felt in any way better since she took her things and left you crying at your doorstep. You didn’t even mind the sting on your cheek from the slap she gave you when you called her out on her bullshit. At least you could feel something from her, instead of absolute, vast nothingness.

Those last few weeks she wasn’t even cold anymore. She just.... wasn’t.

You still cringe when you remember that one time when you called in sick to work on a Friday even though you were in perfect health, just so you could go visit her and drive for hours because she was 200 miles away. Your relationship took a turn into a long-distance one when she moved for work but you didn’t mind, you both promised you’d work through it. But when you decided to visit, months later all you were greeted by was her opening the door for you and asking what the hell you’re doing there and then literally pushing you out saying that she’s really busy and you can’t interfere with her work.

You take a good, long sip of your beer and frown at the memory.

Weeks later you found out she spent that whole weekend with her friends at a spa resort and never once even said sorry.

You’re broken, damaged and unable to receive anything anymore. You can, but you are not willing to put yourself on the line again. Not when all you have to give is a handful of nice words and awkward smiles. There’s nothing underneath anymore, and you have Kuvira to thank for that.

You blame her, yes.

Every day of your life you think of her and all you want to do is tell her how much better it feels to be alone and sad, how all that still feels better than being with her.

Yet you want to say you’re sorry, for everything you may have done wrong, for all those nights she cried and you said you didn’t mean it, not fully aware of what you did wrong. Sometimes it was one word that just didn’t fit the moment, other times you were too silent – either way, you did her wrong. And you still want to say sorry, but...

 _At least I can say that I've tried_  
_To tell you I'm sorry for breaking your heart_  
 _But it don't matter, it clearly doesn't tear you apart_  
 _Anymore_

* * *

 

Until you’re not.

* * *

 

A month after the breakup, you found out Kuvira was seeing someone.

You actually knew the guy – he came up to you once some time after all that, said he was sorry but he didn’t know everything – and you couldn’t, wouldn’t be mad at him. But her... You reckon you’ll never stop being angry. Or hurt.

Sad...

“Hey,” someone speaks beside you and you tilt your head to your right, following the voice, “Hi, sorry but, is this seat taken?”

The girl’s apparently stopped singing since she’s standing next to you right now and you’re kind of just dumbfounded because she looks even more beautiful in person.

“Whoa,” You mumble out and she raises an eyebrow, clearly confused, “I, uh, no- I mean, yeah.” You offer a grin, a really sheepish one, as you reach behind and rub that spot on the back of your neck.

She plops down on the chair and you glance around, noticing a few free chairs around the place and two more clearly free at the bar. You know she could have picked any other seat so you can’t really help the words that escape you.

“Why did you sit here?”

You’re being very rude. And your question is unexpected and probably making you sound extremely snobbish or things much worse than that.

“Uh... If it makes you uncomfortable, I’ll go sit somewhere else,” She says and moves to stand up, clutching the purse in her hands and looking away from you.

“Fuck, I mean no, wait,” You grab her arm but immediately let it go when she glares at you over her shoulder, “Shit, I’m sorry. Look I just, I’m having a really shit day and you’re the last person I want to take it out on. Sorry, please, sit down her, have a drink. On me, kay?”

She takes a moment to consider before her lips curl up in a smile – for the first time in years you feel a little warm in your cheeks – and she cocks her head to the side, one eyebrow raised.

“On you, huh? I wasn’t aware we’ve already gotten so far.” She says that in the most teasing of voices and even winks and it’s all you can handle, really.

“I, uh, I mean the drink is on me- fuck- I mean you can drink on- off I mean- fuck- on me! The drink, uh, shit, I’ll pay for your bloody drink!” You sputter out, clearly out of your – or any – element, as you proceed to hide your face in your hands as you turn away.

You can hear her giggle and it sends a jolt through you.

A jolt that passes through your insides and leaves a certain warmth somewhere in that hole in your heart. A warmth that you’re certain you haven’t felt in years in a piece of you that you were sure was gone forever.  

“Sorry,” She says when you finally look back to her and she’s sitting down next to you again, “I couldn’t help it.” She offers her hand and it takes you a few seconds to realize why, “I’m Asami.”

You take a deep breath and reach out, taking her hand in yours, unable to stop that tiny smile on your lips, “Korra.”

So what if you vowed never to do this again? You’ve never been known for following rules that well, let alone your own. If there’s a line there, you’ll put yourself on it once more. Maybe.


End file.
